


Feel Good

by Spinifex



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Cake, Day At The Beach, Established Relationship, F/F, Fandompotluck, Femslash, Found Family, Happy, Humor, Light Bondage, PWP, Peaceful, Picnic, Podfic Available, Podfic Length: 45-60 Minutes, Romantic Fluff, Shore Leave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25192768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinifex/pseuds/Spinifex
Summary: A day at the beach.A feel good ball of fluff to brighten your day.Written for the Fandom Potluck Dinner.
Relationships: Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine
Comments: 17
Kudos: 33
Collections: Star Trek Fandom Potluck Collection





	Feel Good

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by RegionalPancake.  
> Podfic music by graham_makes, ‘acoustic guitar duet’ via freesound.org.

##  ****

##  **Feel Good**

**[[CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD THE AUDIO VERSION OF THIS STORY]](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1k--e1f8LqF5pju1EzjzKuAap7SB_GHwr/view?usp=sharing) **

“Tell me amiga, what are you planning?” Rios asks Seven, as the group of them walk along the dunes towards the sand.

Little pigface succulents push their vibrant faces to the sun. Up ahead, the last twigs of sea holly clamber at the sand bank. They wither before giving way to the ribbon of the shore.

Raffi walks ahead of them. She wears a grey sarong and a sun hat with a brim that’s much bigger than her head. Her arms are bare, as well as her shoulders. To Seven’s hopeless distraction, so is the majority of her back. Raffi wears a halter-top bikini in the same dove-grey colour as the cloth tied around her waist. A picnic basket hangs heavy from the crook of Raffi’s arm. There’s a small brown bottle of suntan oil in there that Seven has designs on. The only reason why she knows about its existence is because Raffi showed it to her this morning in their quarters; waggling it in front of her while Seven was still pulling her trousers on. The opportunity to get her hands on it, and then her hands upon Raffi’s skin, is pretty much the only goal that Seven’s plan entails.

Rios follows Seven’s gaze towards its destination and grins.

Raffi has handed her basket to Soji. She is holding the trailing edge of her sarong up high above her knees. Her shapely legs are a temptation for Seven’s gaze.

“She’s toying with you,” Rios says.

The captain can sympathise with Seven’s expression. He knows he’s had that look many times before, but directed at a different woman. He swings an arm across Seven’s shoulders, offering his condolences. Seven looks at him pointedly. A lesser fool would have lost their arm by now. Coughing awkwardly, Rios takes his arm away.

Raffi looks back down the dune and beams at Seven, the dimples in her cheeks puckering. Seven shakes air into the space beneath her tank top. Her skin feels flushed and sticky; the day is hot.

Rios chuckles, pretending to squint up at the sun. “Is it warm out here?” he says.

Seven hides a smile and stalks ahead of him, choosing not to respond to Rios’s provocation. She does feel foolish though. She rejected Raffi’s offer of swimwear this morning, favouring the tank and trousers that she put on. She looks forward to settling beneath the shade with her lover. Seven hitches her waistband and soldiers on.

Agnes is helping Raffi clamber up the last steep slope of sand. She uses both arms to haul Raffi to the curving top. For such a skittish person, Agnes has a lot more strength than one expects. Then Raffi over-balances into Agnes, tripping against her with a shout. Seven can hear her two friends’ laughter as they tumble down the other side.

Rios and Seven start the final climb. The ranger is thankful for her sturdy boots as she scrambles upward. She reaches the crest of the dune before Rios, and turns on her heel to watch him. His back bends double against the slope, as though he’s carrying more than just the leather satchel on his back. He’s laughing as the sand gives way beneath his feet more quickly than he expected. “Hey, Amiga!” he says, calling for her attention. The Captain stretches up with one hand and Seven grabs it. She flexes her bicep and braces as she pulls him up and over.

Elnor is trailing faithfully alongside Picard. The pair of them are trundling after their merry band. The swordsman is spinning the story of some Romulan fairy tale, while Jean-Luc listens. Picard adjusts the angle of the hat on his head. Elnor tugs at the strap of his scabbard, snugging the sword that’s strapped tight to his back.

Seven and Rios wait in time-learned silence as Picard begins to climb the last dune. Elnor darts ahead of him. He joins his comrades with the exuberance of a puppy. The old man puts his arms out in front of him. Seven and Elnor and Rios band together, heaving Jean-Luc up toward them. Picard quips about having once had sprightlier days. His group roll their eyes and make smart-arsed comebacks out of fondness. Elnor is as awestruck in the old man’s presence as always.

The rest of their party are already driving umbrellas into the sand. They shout greetings as Seven and the others slide down the dune to join them. They’re careful not to crush the straggling flowers as they walk. Even Rios leaps, laughingly on tip-toes, to spare a rogue plant from the weight of his sandalled feet. Agnes and Soji drop their belongings and run down to the ocean, jumping in and splashing each other. Their shrieks are high and gleeful. The sound makes Seven smile. She stops to pick one of the strawberry-pink flowers that are trying to get a foothold in the pale sand. She turns it thoughtfully between her fingers, wondering if Raffi might wear it in her hair.

Raffi watches Seven approaching, from the shade of the open beach umbrellas. She spreads a picnic rug over the sand. Then Raffi puts her basket on the blanket and sits next to it. Next, she takes the massive hat from her head. Raffi’s long wild hair is in braided pigtails. Her fringe is like a halo for her face. Raffi’s warm eyes twinkle at Seven until she saunters over. Then she beckons Seven downwards with a tug. Seven sinks to her knees, laughing, her legs folding under. She leans against Raffi’s side, casually commanding the other woman’s space. Carefully, she tucks the flower behind her lover’s ear. _Beautiful_. Seven thinks.

Rios grins, depositing his satchel on the sand. “Good luck friend,” he says, and winks at Seven. Raffi snorts and kicks sand at him. She indulges in the action that Seven is too restrained to do herself. Rios chuckles in good humour and dances away.

Agnes hollers at their captain. She waves her pale hand at him from the salty water. Soji is beside her, looking happy and drenched and young. The sun reflecting from the sea brightens up her round-moon face. Agnes grabs hold of Soji in her moment of distraction and then dunks her. More shrieking and laughter warbles down the beach as Soji retaliates. Seven notes, with some amusement, the speed with which Rios removes his shirt and shoes to go and join them. _Typical man_...

Picard looks out at the landscape of ocean and sand. The pink-freckled sand dunes they just trekked over lurk behind them. Out in front, to the left and right, is the stretched-out comma of the sea. Its flat surface sparkles like a blue-backed starfield beneath the fireball of the sun. There are rock pools jutting out into the glass-smooth water at one distant end of the beach. The other stretches around a far-away cove, disappearing behind a scraggle of low-set trees.

Elnor suggests with all sincerity, that he’d very much like to see a starfish. Picard gives Elnor an indulgent smile. The old man is happy to humour him. Jean-Luc toes off his shoes and looks sternly at Elnor until the youth surrenders his weapon. Elnor leaves it with Raffi and Seven, on the condition they keep it in sight. Then Elnor and the admiral head off towards the rock pools in search of their quarry. Picard ambles ahead and Elnor keeps one eye on the water, like he’s worried it might bite.

“I heard Ian telling Elnor about the Kraken. Now he’s concerned that J.L. might get eaten,” says Raffi, smirking after the warrior nun.

Seven laughs. “Is that so? I notice you said nothing to reassure him…” she says.

Raffi shrugs, and Seven is drawn back to the slope of her shoulders. 

“Oh, I did,” says Raffi, “but he would _not_ believe me.”

Seven laughs again, and ties the lion’s mane of her hair at the base of her neck. She sighs with relief at the breeze on her heated skin. “Too bad,” she says, “did you bring the birthday cake?”

Raffi pats the basket that’s sitting behind her. “As if the others would let me forget it,” she says.

Then Raffi shades her eyes with one hand and looks appraisingly at their crewmates having fun in the water. Her arms and back are toned and brown and shapely-looking.

…And suddenly all that Seven can think about is the suntan oil in the depths of Raffi’s picnic basket.

Seven wonders if she can broach the topic subtly…

“Do you...want to go swimming?” Seven asks.

Raffi drops her hand and turns a blinding smile on Seven. She is all teeth and braids and joyful wriggling. Raffi puts her left hand on Seven’s knee and leans inward. Then Seven lets herself be kissed, thoroughly.

“Do you want to go in with me?” Raffi replies when she draws back. Her fingers pluck playfully at the fabric covering Seven’s knee.

Seven’s eyes roam over Raffi’s bare shoulders and along her collarbone. She feels her own skin heat, and she drags her eyes away to contemplate the wide sparkle of the sea. She turns her head to Raffi again, her gaze stuttering around the ringlets of her hair and Raffi’s enquiring smile.

It’s a cliché before Seven even says it, but in this case it’s a cliché because it’s true.

“I...didn’t bring anything to wear,” Seven says.

Raffi chuckles and smooths her hand against the soft curve of Seven’s stomach. She does so with a featherlight touch.

“You should have taken the swimming costume when I offered it babe,” Raffi chides, still smiling. Then Raffi loosens the knot of her sarong from around her hips and hands it to Seven. “You can always put this on?” she offers casually, “I don’t mind if it gets wet.”

Seven raises an eyebrow and smirks back at her. Her blue eyes twinkle with amusement, “and if I don’t give it back?”

“I’ll live,” Raffi replies lightly, and darts forward to nip Seven’s lower lip between her teeth.

Seven shuffles out of her boots and trousers and ties Raffi’s sarong over her hips to cover her underwear. She achieves the entire manoeuvre without standing up, leaving Raffi giggling and breathless.

“You’re ridiculous,” Raffi says, watching Seven fold her trousers into a pile beside the picnic basket.

“No, I’m not,” Seven protests. “I’m serious and commanding. Admit it, you find me intimidating.”

Seven only gets a derisive snort in response and a muttered, “I’ll admit nothing,” as Raffi turns away to rifle through the basket that’s behind them. When Raffi turns back again, it’s to present Seven with the bottle of suntan oil that she’s been coveting since this morning.

Raffi settles in the vee of blanket between Seven’s thighs. She offers Seven the expanse of her near-naked back with a knowing quirk of her lips as Seven takes the bottle from her.

“Help me with my sunscreen?” Raffi says.

The amusement in Raffi’s voice should be annoying. But with her lover’s back and shoulders at her fingertips, Seven finds that she doesn’t really care. Seven gladly touches the small of Raffi’s back with her fingers. Then she slides the flat of her palm upwards until it’s resting in the valley between her shoulders. Raffi leans forward instinctively, improving Seven’s access. Tempted, Seven removes her hand and places a kiss there, instead. Then Seven opens the little bottle, pours honey-bright suntan oil into her palm, and smooths it over Raffi’s shoulders. Her lover makes a happy noise of bliss.

“Have you ever been in the water?” Raffi asks, while Seven is studiously massaging her.

“Not since Tendara colony,” Seven says.

“Tendara? When was that?” asks Raffi over her shoulder.

Seven pauses. Lost in a frayed memory, she absently strokes the blade of Raffi’s shoulder with her thumb. Her lover’s skin is heated from the sunlight, and shining from the suntan oil.

“I was born there,” Seven says. 

“Oh, _baby_ ,” Raffi sighs and leans against Seven. Raffi reaches for Seven’s hands and pulls the other woman’s arms around her.

“I think we’ll be alright as long as we don’t go in too far,” Seven says by Raffi’s ear. The thick braid of Raffi’s pigtail brushes Seven’s cheek. “Go swimming with me?” Seven asks again.

Raffi twists to steal a kiss and then rises from the sand. “We’ll do whatever makes you comfortable,” she holds her hand out in front of her to help Seven to her feet. “We’ll take it slow,” Raffi says.

The pair walk together towards the ocean. The deep white sand of the beach proper is nearly too hot beneath their bare feet. They dash the last few meters to where the beach is lapped by cooling water. Laughing and hissing their relief in each other's arms, they linger at the edge of it, wetting their toes. Raffi scrunches her feet against the sand and Seven copies her, smiling at the sensation of the grains beneath her feet.

“The water’s calm,” Seven says, admiring the prism of the water opening windows to the sand. The cool water has soothed the sting on the soles of their feet. Raffi tugs her elbow gently, stepping into the water first. Seven happily takes Raffi’s hand and follows the other woman into it, holding on to her. The cool water laps first at their shins and then their knees. They stop as soon as the water level reaches Seven’s waist.

“Is this okay?” Raffi asks, pulling Seven closer.

“It’s fine,” Seven says.

Seven runs her fingers over the water, and then under it. The sunlight casts a tiger-striped filigree of white and yellow along the back of her hand and forearm. Raffi watches her playing for a moment and then takes her hand again, moving her hips in an imaginary dance. Seven lets Raffi pull her in and laughs, swaying with her. Their legs tangle, creating tiny waves. Then Raffi lifts her arm up, and first spins herself, then Seven under it. Raffi’s laughter is open as she does it, and Seven wears a silly grin.

Seven bobs away from her lover. She’s quietly intrigued by the way that her body is buoyed by the water. Seven gets her hair and clothing wet, impulsively trying to see if she can float on her back. But she doesn’t remember what all the different steps are, and sinks under like a stone. The Ex-Borg surfaces to her lover’s astonished laughter as Raffi bounce-floats to her side.

“Are you alright?” Raffi asks. She curls her hand around Seven’s elbow to help her find her feet.

“The Borg do not float as readily as I expected,” says Seven dryly.

“Ooh, I love it when you talk Borg to me,” says Raffi. Her smirk is fond as she winds her arms around her lover’s shoulders. Then she looks down and makes an observation. “You’re drenched,” Raffi says, and pulls a face at her.

“You are not,” Seven replies.

Seven gets a gleam in her eyes and Raffi bounces backwards, splashing water in surrender when she realises her lover’s intentions. She’s raising both her hands up and laughing loudly, “Oh, no-no-wait, no!”

Then Seven grabs Raffi by the waist and dunks them both under the water. There’s a muted splash followed by the sounds of glee, and Raffi’s startled laughter as they come back up. Seven waits for Raffi to wipe the water from her eyes and then presses her lips to Raffi’s smile. The languid kiss is salty and wet, and frequently interrupted by laughter and teeth. Peace returns while Seven steals her lover’s breath away.

“Resistance is futile?” Raffi asks, eventually. Both of them are grinning wide; breathless and soaked with water.

“Something like that,” Seven says, and then kisses Raffi some more.

*

The sound of Rios shouting to them comes in from the shore, “Hey amigas - enough now! It’s cake time...and then maybe get a room?” he calls playfully.

Raffi groans and leans back in Seven’s embrace. Her lips are red and glistening from Seven’s attention. “He really should stop doing that,” she complains, eyes rolling.

“I have many skills,” says Seven, her pulse still hammering. She rests her hands upon Raffi’s hips and her head on Raffi’s shoulder. Her fingers brush over the rise of Raffi’s hip, where the tight cloth of her bikini bottoms lies snug against warm skin. She doesn’t feel ready to let go of her yet. Her warm breath tickles Raffi’s neck. “Should I dispose of him? Then we could stay here…” she says.

Raffi grins and shakes her head. She winds a loose strand of Seven’s wavy hair around her fingers and lets it go again.

“Nah, the others wouldn’t like that. Anyway, it’s J.L.’s birthday. We can’t let Cris’s unfortunate demise ruin it,” Raffi says.

Raffi takes Seven’s hand and they make their way towards the others, out of the sparkling surf.

“So, later then?” says Seven, bumping Raffi’s arm.

Raffi nudges Seven back and winks as she leads her across the sand.

“Later, you’re all mine,” she promises.

*

“…so we made a cake,” Agnes is saying as they reach the shade of the large umbrellas. There is indeed a cake set on a plate, in the center of the picnic blanket. The members of their crew are already gathered around it.

Raffi bends over to pick up her large straw hat and a towel. She puts the hat on, and hands the towel to Seven. Then she takes another one for herself, and wraps it around her body, snugging the edge of it under her arms.

“How old are you turning now, J.L.?” Raffi asks. -

She steps around the picnic basket and their small pile of belongings to Jean-Luc’s side. She sits down opposite Seven and examines their circle. Seven has Elnor on her left, and Agnes on her right. Rios is sitting cross-legged beside Agnes, and Soji and the old man are opposite them.

\- "Is it your first or your ninety-fifth birthday?" she says.

Picard huffs with his wrinkle-eyed expression of surprise and delight. He tugs thoughtfully at the brim of his hat.

“Ah. Well…why not both?” the old man wonders, “Either milestone is significant.” Then he casts his gaze around their ragtag band of friends like Raffi did. “What did we decide upon last year?” he asks.

Raffi scoffs and plucks at the corner of the towel where it touches her knees.

“We didn’t decide on anything; you used wine to bribe a raging alcoholic, and then took us all out on this crazy assed adventure...it’s no wonder you’ve forgotten it, J.L.,” Raffi says.

Jean-Luc reaches over and covers Raffi’s hand. His new-but-old eyes rest on hers. “My apologies for that Raffi. I truly didn’t realise,” he says, releasing her.

Raffi nods, and shrugs. Her chin brushes her pigtails beneath her massive hat, and its wide brim shelters her face.

“It’s fine J.L., water under the bridge,” Raffi says.

Then Raffi takes off her hat and sets it behind her. The sun touches her curls and colours them golden as she casts a fond look over their crew. 

“Besides, now we have our friends,” Raffi smirks at Rios, and smiles warmly at Elnor and Agnes and Soji. Then her gaze rests lightly on Seven. Although Raffi is silent, Seven can still hear her thinking, in the way that Raffi looks at her, _and I have you_.

Seven smiles slowly, and returns the wordless sentiment. _I know_.

Then Raffi turns her attention to Agnes. Asking, “Hey hon, did you bring candles?”

Agnes grimaces and pulls at the sleeve of the dress shirt she’s wearing. It looks as though it once belonged to Rios, which is not surprising. The pair are very much a couple now. The scientist looks over at Soji, whose large green eyes go round like a deer in headlights.

“I thought you grabbed them, Soji?” Agnes asks.

Soji shakes her head apologetically, still mostly a child in a young woman’s body.

“No, sorry,” Soji says.

Rios reaches for the bundle he was carrying and pulls out one of his cigars and a lighter. He waves both in a one-man dance of triumph.

Elnor leans forwards beside Seven with interest. He glances with a mixture of delight and alarm between the cake and captain Rios.

“Why does Rios need a lighter, Seven?” Elnor asks, turning to his second-favourite source of wisdom on their crew. “Is it traditional to set fire to the cake before you eat it?”

Seven is rescued from inventing an answer by Agnes, who leans across for Elnor’s attention.

“No, not usually,” Agnes says. “On Earth we just use candles. What do they do on Romulus?”

Elnor’s earnest expression turns impossibly brighter, delighted to be the provider of stories that only he knows.

“I've never been to Romulus myself, but when my sisters celebrated birthdays, we had these huge bonfire parties and dancing!” Elnor says. “In the Way of Absolute Candour, fire symbolises new life.”

Elnor pauses, smiling absently as he gets caught in some pleasant boyhood memory. “The sisters gave me Jumja sticks!” he says.

Both Raffi and Seven smile at him with the ghosts of a mother’s pain. Seven’s ache is for the one she lost, and Raffi’s is for the man who sees no place in his mother’s life for his young family. Agnes looks baffled, and the rest are all fond, if mildly bemused.

“That sounds great, honey,” Raffi says, and no-one disagrees with her.

Rios breaks the reflective silence by flicking his lighter at the tip of his cigar and leaning in with it towards the birthday cake.

Agnes tries to stop him with a laughing shout of, “Cris, no!”

While Raffi echoes, “Don’t you dare!”

Naturally Rios ignores them and plants the cigar into the edge of the cake with a grin of triumph. He spreads his hands wide, inviting his groaning and giggling friends to share in his mastery.

“Perfect!” Rios says.

Rios leans over towards Raffi and Jean-Luc and tips his imaginary feathered hat to them.

“There you go, Admiral,” says Rios, “happy birthday!”

The old man nods graciously and takes the cake knife from their picnic basket.

“Thank you, Rios, and thank all of you for continuing this journey with me,” Jean-Luc says. Then he raises his brow at the captain and cuts away the piece of cake with the cigar stuck into it. He puts it on a napkin and hands it over. “I think that perhaps you may keep this one,” he says.

Cake happens, and then toasts, and then the joy of raucous conversation mixed in with peals of laughter. They lounge on the beach, arguing fondly as the sun swings down from the heavens. The shadows start lengthening and the burn of midday gentles, turning cooler.

Eventually, Jean-Luc begs their pardon, and excuses himself from their party to read and take a nap. It’s his birthday after all, he claims. He’s an old man now and old men do so enjoy their rest.

Agnes and Rios sneak off together back up the dunes to their spaceship, hand-in-hand. Each carries one of the beach umbrellas under their arms to be recycled in the ship’s replicators.

Before they go, Soji helps Elnor fold the picnic blanket and offers to carry it back to the ship with them. Agnes takes it from her instead, and tells their youngest crewmates to take a walk together. The doctor is clearly unable to resist meddling with their friends. Then Elnor has a brief, good-natured argument with Raffi over the necessity of taking his sword along on his walk. Evidently, he’s still concerned about the Kraken.

“Honey, there’s no such thing,” Raffi explains.

Elnor disagrees. “You all said that about the giant green space hand -and then there was one!” he replies.

Raffi shakes her head ruefully. “Okay, _fine_. You win,” she says.

Seven turns away from them in an effort to hide her laughter.

*

When everybody else has gone, Raffi turns back to Seven and drops her beach towel on the still-warm sand. Seven thinks she might just fall in love again, with the way that Raffi looks at her, inviting in just her bikini and a smile.

Raffi pulls Seven to her feet and holds her loosely in her arms. There is about a half-arm’s length of space between them. Seven’s hair has long since escaped from its ponytail and has dried back into dandelion waves. Raffi strokes her fingers over them, enjoying the way the tangles smooth out beneath her hand. When she’s finished playing Seven’s hair across her fingers, Raffi gives Seven a look that lights a bonfire in the pit of her belly. Seven pulls her lip between her teeth and tries not to blush while Raffi watches her.

“Alone at last,” Raffi says.

Seven steps closer and reaches up to cradle Raffi’s head between her hands. She runs kisses over Raffi’s neck, sucking on an earlobe and stroking the thin cloth of Raffi’s halter top with eager fingers. Raffi makes soft, happy noises of contentment, her own mouth and fingers wandering. Seven tilts her chin to capture Raffi’s lips again. The contact is breathless and dizzying.

“ _Finally_ ,” Seven agrees. 

Raffi brushes her fingertip over the implant near Seven’s cheek and then pulls back to bestow a smile on her.

“Just you and me and the big blue sea,” Raffi says, with a smirk to show that she’s joking.

Seven stops what she’s doing and looks at Raffi deadpan. “Please do not use poetry when you’re coming on to me,” she says.

Raffi lets out a breath of laughter.

“Harsh, babe,” says Raffi. She slides her hands over Seven’s collarbone. Then down to where the hem of Seven’s tank top is resting around her hips. “How about I just make you come instead?” she says.

“I’ll think about it,” says Seven, feigning indifference.

Raffi squeezes her hands around Seven’s hips. “Ooh, my Stoic Ranger!”

Seven raises her metal eyebrow. “You know you like it.”

Raffi quiets and she traces a winding pattern from the curve of Seven’s stomach to the valley of Seven’s neck.

“Very true,” Raffi agrees, “and there’s a lot to like.” Then Raffi ducks her chin and looks at Seven through her eyelashes, “I promised you that later you’d be all mine, didn’t I?”

Seven feels her legs go weak as she’s pulled in by that promise.

“Is it later now?” she says.

Raffi undoes the knot of the sarong that’s draped over Seven’s hips and slides one finger into the hem of Seven’s underwear. She lets the sarong flutter to the ground and tugs Seven closer by her waistband. Seven steps forwards until their knees can slide together. The light pressure of Raffi’s knuckle hooked against her stomach is the only thing that Seven can register as Raffi’s tongue peeks out to wet her lips.

“Yes. It’s later now,” Raffi says. Her finger slides a little further around Seven’s waistband until she’s pulling the elastic taught at Seven’s front.

“Do you want to stay here, or shall we go back to the ship?” Raffi asks. She makes Seven gasp with shock when she releases the elastic with a snap.

Seven places her mouth by Raffi’s ear and winds both arms behind her lover’s neck.

“Fuck me in the ocean and then take me on our bed,” Seven says, and feels amazed at her own candour.

Seven is pushed a half-step backwards as Raffi stumbles against her. “Oh my god. I won’t say no to that,” Raffi says.

Then Raffi gathers the hem of the tank top that Seven is wearing and slides her fingers underneath it, urgently questing upwards.

“Are you wearing anything underneath this?” Raffi asks. Her aim is to have Seven as near-to-naked as possible, in the shortest time frame allowed.

“Yes,” says Seven. She arches forwards when Raffi’s fingers find her bra, “take it off.”

Raffi fumbles at the clasp, “and your shirt?” she adds.

“Leave it on,” Seven says. Then Raffi helps her slide her arms free from her bra straps, through the arm-holes of her top, “in case anyone comes back.”

“You’re a wise woman,” Raffi says. She tosses the bra towards their belongings in a ripple of elastic. Then Raffi reaches out and kisses Seven playfully. “Time to get you wet,” she says, smirking at her own joke and leading Seven to the water.

*

The ocean has a gentle ripple to it as Raffi guides them into chest-deep water. The calm surface reflects the burnt-orange sunset. The darker depths of blue disguise the sand. Raffi starts to fulfil Seven’s request, and makes good upon her promise.

Seven gasps when Raffi’s left hand sneaks between her thighs. Then Raffi uses her right hand to hook Seven’s left knee around her hip. The contrast between the heat of Raffi’s body and the cool swirl of the water makes Seven lose her mind. Seven splays her fingers over Raffi’s back, holding on to her. Raffi bites down on Seven’s lip, swallowing her lover’s gasp as Seven sighs into her mouth. The salty taste of Raffi’s skin is a delight on Seven’s tongue as Raffi kisses her.

Raffi moves her hand carefully. Her searching fingers cause shivers with every stroke. Raffi knows her lover’s body well enough that she can anticipate what Seven likes. But it also means that Raffi wilfully teases her. Raffi holds back from giving Seven exactly what she wants, because she knows that waiting sometimes makes it better. 

Seven pushes her hips against Raffi’s hand, incoherently requesting the push of Raffi’s fingers inside her. Raffi breaks their kiss before going further. The cotton of Seven’s underwear is pulled tight over the back of Raffi’s wrist.

She leans her forehead against Seven’s.

“May I?” Raffi asks.

Seven makes a helpless noise, tilting into her. Her Borg hand rests on the small of Raffi’s back, and the other kneads the sculpture of Raffi’s shoulder blade. “ _Please_ ,” Seven says.

Raffi smiles against her lover’s neck, hearing Seven’s shaky exhale of satisfaction as she finally pushes in. Gradually, Raffi starts moving, flexing her wrist against Seven’s hips. Seven curls both of her hands over Raffi’s shoulders, their clothes rumpling where their bodies meet beneath the water. The sun sinks low on the horizon, and the ocean’s surface darkens to a steel blue-grey. A breeze picks up, and it makes them shiver. Both Raffi and Seven are too wrapped up in each other to care.

“ _I need more_ ,” Seven says. Her breath is hot on Raffi’s lips. They’re close enough to be kissing, but Seven’s focus is too shattered by her growing excitement.

“Hold on, baby,” Raffi replies.

Raffi moves to slide two fingers in, but the contours of the seabed unbalance her. Raffi stumbles and then tries to recover. The combination of the chest-deep water’s buoyancy and the weight of a full-grown woman in her arms makes Raffi lose her balance completely. Raffi gives a surprised squeak and falls over gracelessly, nearly pulling Seven with her. Seven gasps as the firm heat of Raffi’s embrace is suddenly replaced by the chilly sunset water and then by the sight of her lover disappearing under the waves. That moment is quickly followed by the sound of Raffi’s flustered apology as she surfaces, drenched and wiping water from her face and eyes.

Seven hugs Raffi in her arms and nips her shoulder lightly. She’s insanely aroused, but it’s clear that they’ve been thwarted. She hides her face in Raffi’s hair and laughs in response to Raffi’s mortified chuckling. It would have been wise to consider their logistics, if they were to try another time. But the air is growing colder now and the dusk is quickly fading into night.

Seven tugs at one of the dripping curls of Raffi’s braids and touches their noses together, still smiling.

“As hot as that was Raffi, I think we should take this to bed,” Seven says.

Raffi blushes and nods, then Seven offers her a kiss as a distraction.

Raffi accepts it and then pulls back slowly, looking calmer. “Yeah, I think you’re right babe. It’s getting cold,” Raffi says.

Seven wriggles to straighten her underwear and grins at Raffi’s expression as she leads the way out of the surf. The sand has turned to quicksilver, and the shadows are much darker now. Seven can feel the small grains sticking to her feet as they pick up their piled towels and the picnic basket. The massed flowers on the dunes ahead of them are rustling quietly, sending their evening perfume out to sea. Seven takes Raffi’s hand when they are ready, and they walk back down the trail together until they reach the beam-in coordinates for their ship.

Seven digs one of their communicators free from the basket over her arm. She taps the object once and then holds it to her mouth.

“Two to beam up,” Seven says.

*

Two lines of sandy footprints dry between the transport platform and the locked door to Raffi’s quarters. The door muffles the hum of the sonic shower starting. Meanwhile, inside the privacy of Raffi’s quarters, both women stand under the cleansing sound waves to wash away the sea and salt. The damp heap of their discarded clothing sits beside the laundry unit, ready to be put in the refresher. Seven stretches languidly, like a cat, and declares her body clean. She steps out of the shower and runs her fingers through her hair to untangle it, waiting for Raffi to join her. Raffi eventually emerges from the shower, re-braiding her pigtails with an ease borne of lifelong practice. Seven quietly watches her, appreciating the lines of Raffi’s naked body as she smooths her wild curls into order. Raffi shoots a pleased look back at Seven, happy to know that her lover still likes what she sees. Then Raffi leads Seven back out to their bed, and turns to face her.

There is another quiet moment of distraction as Seven reaches to cup her hand on Raffi’s cheek and kisses her. Seven gives a little sigh of contentment as she finally gets to feel her lover's naked heat against her skin. It feels as though she’s been waiting for this moment all day. Now that it has arrived, the moment is blissful.

Their feet brush together as the kiss ends. Raffi smiles mischievously as a new idea occurs to her. Raffi tangles their fingers between their bodies, so that their forearms are cradled between their breasts. Her right hand strokes the implants that are on Seven’s hip.

“Do you want me to tie you up?” Raffi asks, her eyebrow quirking as she speaks.

Seven’s eyes go wide and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. She fails not to nod too eagerly as she squeezes Raffi’s fingers and says, “Yes.”

Raffi’s brilliant grin suggests that Seven’s ability to appear calm was limited, but Seven finds that she doesn’t really care. Her previous lovers found the idea of bondage challenging. But Raffi is sweetly inquisitive at heart, and encourages Seven to explore those wants with her. Seven likes it when Raffi takes her, and Raffi loves her enough to indulge in it.

Raffi pushes Seven onto their bed.

“Okay, let me get the cuffs,” Raffi says.

Seven settles herself down into their nest of pillows and watches her lover request handcuffs from their cabin’s private replicator. She feels a shiver of anticipation as she hears Raffi saying, “One pair of magnetic handcuffs, Model 85-E: black.”

The cuffs clink lightly as Raffi returns to Seven and crawls onto the bed, kneeling beside her. The locks beep as Raffi flips them open. She holds them out for Seven’s wrists, and Raffi smiles as Seven offers them. Their mutual trust is implicit in the simple gesture. Raffi locks the handcuffs and then strokes her fingers along Seven’s forearms, over the cuffs, and then down to Seven’s fingertips.

“Do you remember how to get out of them?” Raffi says, to Seven’s smile. She holds Seven’s bound hands in hers to demonstrate, “Push in, press down, and pu-“

Raffi laughs as Seven expertly escapes the cuffs, and hands them back over to her, smirking.

“Show off,” Raffi teases. She holds the handcuffs open for Seven to place her wrists inside again.

Seven chuckles fondly as Raffi closes the cuffs against her skin. “You know what I like,” Seven says.

“Hm, I do,” Raffi agrees, leaning over and kissing her. “Do you want the vibrator?” she asks.

Seven shakes her head, “No. Just your mouth and hands.”

Raffi smiles wide, still leaning forward on her hands and knees. “Okay,” Raffi says.

Then she leans back again and catches Seven’s blue eyes with her own.

“Do you have your safe word?” Raffi asks.

Seven doesn’t hesitate, “Hat.”

Seven’s lover suppresses a smile. “...Ridiculous,” Raffi says, shaking her head, “a real mood killer.”

Seven shrugs, holding her bound hands to her chest as she relaxes once more against the pillows.

“I think that’s the point…” Seven says.

Raffi crawls over on her hands and knees until she reaches Seven’s bare feet near the foot of the bed. Raffi massages the arches of Seven’s insteps and then releases them so that Seven can bend her legs.

“Bring your knees up babe,” Raffi says.

Seven squirms with anticipation as Raffi shuffles closer. The linen of their bed sheets pulls beneath Seven’s bare thighs as Raffi’s weight disturbs the mattress under them. Seven tries hard not to reach for her lover as Raffi first strokes her ankles and then the soft skin of her calves. Raffi bends her head to brush her lips against the top of Seven’s knee, and then urges Seven’s legs apart by settling between them.

“You know, we used the 85-E model handcuffs at the Academy,” says Raffi conversationally.

She reaches forward and hooks one finger around the restraints on Seven’s wrists and draws Seven’s hands towards her. Seven’s breathing elevates. The absence of Raffi’s touch anywhere else on her body is intense. Seven’s inability to freely touch her lover only increases her excitement. It focuses Seven’s attention on Raffi’s proximity, and the affection in the other woman’s eyes as Raffi looks at her, drinking Seven in.

Raffi presses her warm mouth to the edge of Seven’s thumb, biting down on the soft skin, and then soothes the little discomfort with her tongue. She pays equal attention to Seven’s augmented hand, though Raffi brushes her lips over the lacework of metal there, instead of using her teeth.

“The safety release on that model was important when they were teaching us about security,” Raffi continues, guiding Seven to rest her cuffed hands on the pillows behind her head. Seven lays back comfortably beneath her. She inhales as Raffi reaches over her, tangling their fingers together where they rest near the head of the bed. She could arch up so easily and have more of Raffi’s warmth against hers, but Seven stops herself, relishing the restriction around her wrists.

Raffi returns to her original position, kneeling on the mattress between Seven’s bent legs.

“Are you comfortable?” Raffi asks.

Seven moves a little, repositioning the angles of her arms and back. She reclines against the pillows with a nod, “Yes.”

Raffi starts by placing a line of open-mouthed kisses from Seven’s knee. Then she stretches out on the mattress before Seven, until she’s lying on her stomach, looking up at her. The sides of Raffi’s waist brush against Seven’s calves, and Seven can’t resist stroking her foot against her lover’s warm body. Raffi smiles and kisses the leg that’s tickling her. Then Raffi nuzzles her cheek against the inner flank of Seven’s thigh and wets her lips in anticipation.

“Did you ever take training in Starfleet security?” Raffi asks. Her smirk makes it clear that she doesn’t need a coherent answer.

The only thing that’s going through Seven’s head right now is just how close Raffi’s mouth is to where she really wants it. The hot pulse of arousal caused by Raffi’s teasing intensifies as her lover looks down and pulls her lip between her teeth. Seven’s breathing stutters.

“I never...I never joined Starfleet,” Seven manages, playing along with Raffi’s game.

Raffi’s dark eyes sparkle up at her, “You would have been a cute cadet.”

Seven gasps when Raffi squeezes her hands unexpectedly around her hips. Her fingers push between Seven’s bottom and the mattress. Seven twitches instinctively, giving in to her own need and rolling her hips. If she doesn’t get Raffi’s mouth on her body soon...but Seven can’t even think of any consequences. She looks down the length of her own torso to the glorious vision of Raffi watching her from between her thighs.

“Raffi, please. Stop teasing me,” Seven says.

Raffi dips her head down and finally gives her lover what she wants. She savours the way that Seven’s breath catches, and the way that Seven’s hips tilt desperately against the bed. Seven strains her against her handcuffs, curling and uncurling her fingers in an effort not to reach out with her hands. Raffi uses the heat of her mouth and the smooth of her tongue as her lover bucks beneath her. Raffi’s mouth is hot and perfect and exactly what Seven was hoping for all day.

Then Raffi slides one finger in, and Seven cannot hold back the sounds of pleasure that escape. Seven clutches the edge of the pillow that’s behind her head, and tries to control the involuntary movements that her body makes in response to Raffi’s ministrations. Seven closes her eyes and struggles to get words out.

“Don’t stop Raffi. I’m close,” she says.

Raffi shifts her position, using her right hand in place of her lips and tongue. She leans over and nips at the sensitive skin of Seven’s inner thigh. Then Raffi’s lips brush the warm metal of one of Seven’s implants.

“I’ve got you, honey,” Raffi says.

Seven gasps as Raffi brings her closer, blissfully going down on her again with that perfect mouth. She writhes, torn between her enjoyment of being restrained and her desire to hold her lover closer. Eventually, Seven’s need to be held through her climax by Raffi outweighs her desire to be held back by her restraints. She fumbles blindly, pushing her wrists in to disengage the mag-lock, pushing down to release the pins, and pulling the unlocked handcuffs apart. Seven shakes them off, hearing them thump somewhere towards the back of their bed. They’ll hide there behind the pillows until being rediscovered later.

Now though, it’s irrelevant. With her hands freed, Seven reaches for Raffi, panting as her lover kisses her way up her body and stretches out alongside her. Raffi murmurs encouragement as Seven clings to her, angling her hips to Raffi's fingers for more friction. Seven is close, and both of them can feel it.

"Come on baby," Raffi says.

"Oh!" Seven replies, holding tight and burying her face against Raffi’s hair, " _Raffi_ -"

*

Seven smiles tiredly as Raffi wipes her face and hand on the sheets. Raffi’s unfurled braids are in a messy tangle as she leans over to press a kiss beside Seven’s lips. Seven turns her head and brings Raffi back to kiss her properly, not minding that she can taste herself on Raffi’s tongue. Raffi rubs their noses together, her pulse fluttering. She grins back at Seven, and kisses her again.

“You escaped,” Raffi says lightly. Her toned arm stretches as she reaches under the pillows to retrieve their handcuffs. She deposits them gently beside the bed.

“Yes,” says Seven. Content and satisfied, “but you caught me.”

Raffi snuggles down by Seven’s side. She lays her head on Seven’s chest. “Sappy,” says Raffi, chuckling.

Seven reaches over and pulls at their blankets, needing to rest a little while. She closes her eyes, still smiling, and kisses Raffi’s hair. “It’s a secret, Raffi,” Seven whispers, “don’t tell anyone.”

“Sure thing babe, you’re safe with me,” Raffi says.

Seven traces the contours of Raffi’s back and stifles a yawn. “Your turn soon?” she asks.

Seven feels Raffi smiling against her collarbone. If her eyes were open, she could confirm the pattern that Raffi is tracing over her chest. They haven’t finished yet.

“Later,” Raffi says.

[END]


End file.
